--How do you love me? he asked, needing endless reassurance.
She thought for a moment, picked a piece of lint off her dress. Choosing her words carefully.
--I think of you constantly. I imagine a world in which we can be together. I regret not writting to you after the accident. I lie awake at night feeling you touch me. I believe we were meant to be together.
He drew a long breath.
--Is that enough? she asked.

Anita Shreve, The last time they met


I know I just saw you yesterday, but when will be the next time I see you again?